“Dr. Keller, good evening. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you could find me another date for this week. I’m busy on the weekend, but Thursday night would work great.”

A brief pause. “What happened to ‘I need a break from meeting new people’?”

After the Flat Earther, I’d told her I needed to hit the brakes for a while.

“I’ve changed my mind,” I say.

“Any particular reason?”

“No,” I lie.

“Okay, Dr. Keller, I’ll see what I can do and let you know.”

“Fantastic.”

I hang up and, before I make any more foolish decisions, I take a long, cooling walk home.

Twenty-one

Vivian

My lips are burning. My chest is burning. My core is burning. Every cell in my body is aflame.

I flee my office building and hail the first cab I see to get uptown.

Inside the car, I sit in the back, nervously biting on a nail while trying not to ruin the polish. I won’t have that horrible man spoil the night for me.

So we made out in the elevator. Whatever. No big deal. I won’t think about it.

I. Will. Not.

But no matter how hard I try to ignore what happened, the heat of that kiss doesn’t leave me alone. Shrek did it on purpose. He wanted to ruin my date with Roger.

Why?

Probably to keep his stupid office. He’s a selfish bastard.

Yeah, an evil little voice whispers in my ear, because it’s notorious for selfish bastards to spend their weekends driving someone else’s kid to Boston so they can meet their father.

Selfish or not, he’s still a bastard.

The cab pulls up in front of the restaurant. I pay the driver and step on the curb, pulling the hem of my skirt down. Time to meet Roger. We’re going to share a wonderful dinner and, at the end of the night, he’s going to kiss me so passionately he’ll make Lucas’ pathetic little smooch pale in comparison.

Roger would have to be a pretty stunning kisser to one-up Lucas, the same evil voice comments.

Oh, shut up.

Inside the restaurant, the hostess informs me I’m the first to arrive, and leads me to a table set for three.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “There must be a mistake; I should be at a table for two.”

The hostess checks her folder. “Is the reservation under Chapman?”

“Yes,” I confirm.

“Then I have a reservation at 7:30 for three.”

“Never mind,” I say, and sit down.